Wester Aberchalder inland from the sea south from the estuary east from that steely coast of gulls and gritty water, older than its exiled peoples' voices from the other side of ocean, ousted from a land they did not own evicted from their homes - they cannot hear the curlews' call, the owl's deliberate whirr, at dusk the perfume of the trees, oh resonant glen, your mottled hills all spoiled by trafficking in wood for money.next poem